Robert Cannot Know
by Corelli Sonatas
Summary: Cora is forced to abide by Simon Bricker's unruly and horribly dishonest scheme. What happens when both are discovered?
1. An Incident

TV Shows » Downton Abbey » **Robert Cannot Know**

Author: Corelli Sonatas

1\. An Incident 2. Distasteful Dinner 3. Premiere Separation 4. Crumbling Hope 5. Exposure and Concern 6. Secrecy 7. Frightening Activity 8. Robert Knows 9. EPILOGUE

Rated: T - English - Drama/Hurt/Comfort - Reviews: 41 - Published: 07-07-15 - Updated: 09-02-15

id:11364379

"Do we have a deal, then?"

Simon Bricker was not a man of circumlocution. He always, wantonly expressed what he wished most of others, negligent in the treatment of his clients. In the present situation, however, Bricker's client was more of a victim.

Gritted teeth and heavy breathing accompanied Cora's reluctant huff in Bricker's ear: "If you won't hurt them... Yes."

Delight was hardly the man's emotion, because he had heard the cacophonous slamming of doors and hollers of "Cora!" outside the guest bedroom, all of which came from Bricker's worst enemy.

"You won't be sorry, my dear," he began, lifting his bony physique up from Cora's own slender body. He had positioned her uncomfortably underneath him on the bed in the dimly-lit bedroom, and all for good reason.

To give her a foretaste of their accord.

...

Almost ten minutes later, Cora stepped out of the bedroom and made for her own room, walking groggily down the hall. Her limbs felt sorer than they had done in childbirth, and her heart was miserable with disturbance. She had fallen into Simon Bricker's arms - literally also - and was now subject to a cyclical scandal about which she dared not to tell Robert.

He would surely kill Bricker for it.

But it was no time for her to act the victim; Cora's daughters had just located her down the hall and were running toward the disheveled woman. "Mama!"

"Where were you, Mama? The entire staff is searching for you now!"

Shocked though Cora was to find Edith and Mary working together, she pretended to be at ease with the whole situation. "Why on earth did looking for me become such a production?" questioned the Countess with an air of authority. "Please tell the staff that all is well; I'm going to bed."

"At this hour?" wondered Mary suspiciously, eyeing her mother's look of worry amid other surreal appearances about Cora's exterior. "We will send Papa to you. He's awfully frightened -"

"Do _not_ send him," demanded Cora. Nerves consumed her at this instant, causing her to be less hopeful about her future. She was bound to two men now: one by marriage, the other by... It was too disgusting for her to review the second circumstance.

The two young women soon left on account of Cora's risen temper, although Edith kept glancing back at her mother worriedly. Before too long, Cora's tears met the pillow and she fell immediately asleep in her bed.

...

"Cora? Please wake up, my dear -"

Only several minutes later, Robert's voice plagued Cora's mind into imagining a rerun of her nightmare that day:

 _"Cora! Please_ let _me!"_

 _"Never! How dare you!"_

 _A slap in the face blacked her out temporarily. He snarled over her defenceless figure, then lowered his head to whisper, "Get up, now!"_

 _She shuddered at the sound of his angry, lustful voice; so cold and so hopeless was she. His hands practically scathed her arms as he ran his hands up and down them in hyper exhilaration._

 _"You will consent to being at my disposal twice a week for half an hour...unless you want your family to lose everything. Including that bastard you're married to -"_

 _"I'll scream!" shouted Cora fiercely, her maternal inclination to get away in order to guard her children and husband from this villain. "If you don't let me go -"_

 _A monstrous laugh, however, put a stop to her speech. "You will see, Cora, how much happier you will be, once you're with me. Force is compulsory right now, only to condition you to detest everything here at Downton... But especially that man who fails to love you."_

Robert was weeping. "My darling, you're scaring me too much. Cora!"

 _"Agree to be my secret mistress, Cora, or your husband and family will pay dearly."_

 _"Get off of me."_

 _He presses his hand to her mouth, almost preventing her from breathing, and prompts, "Do we have a deal, then?"_


	2. Distasteful Dinner

When the depths of her nightmare finally freed her from terror, Cora blinked her eyes open to discover that she was not alone.

Baxter was dabbing a damp cloth over the Countess' forehead; whilst Mary, Edith, and Robert claimed seats for themselves at the corners of the bed.

Robert's close proximity to his wife led him to notice her weary blue eyes, and he let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God -"

"Is she awake, Papa?" Edith wondered from behind. Robert turned and nodded, then clasped his hand over cheek and cried quietly, "Never had I felt so powerless and so empty at once. My dear."

With his last words of endearment came a whisper from his wife: "Please don't." Offence was not taken until Robert attempted to kiss her cheek; but Cora held back his face.

The scene was one in which Baxter sought the servants' hall, as her employers' respectively crushed and cautious countenances radiated discomfort throughout the bedroom. Observing the lady's maid just once prompted Mary to politely show Baxter out the door.

"I...just don't understand," Robert was whispering to Cora in heartbreak. "Has something happened? Were you out to see Dr. Clarkson?"

"Robert, if you would please not overwhelm me any further," protested the woman quickly. There was no chance, she knew, of telling even the slightest bit of her whereabouts. Thus her option was to steer the conversation into other problems. "Have you checked with Carson regarding dinner tonight?" she asked.

Too stunned by Cora's present priorities to refuse to answer her, Robert shook his head. "Not yet. In fact," he added, finding Edith at the centre of the room, "Edith, I am assigning you to go downstairs for that purpose."

"Yes, Papa," obeyed their daughter, uncomplaining.

And finally Robert and Cora were unaccompanied, rather exciting the former. "Let me kiss you, my dear. I need to."

"Robert, this isn't the right -"

"Cora, from my perspective, you've been missing for the past hour! Can a husband not properly reunite with -"

"This isn't _appropriate!"_

Those were three words enough to sear into every fibre of his being that had previously yearned for intimacy. Cora eased herself into a sitting position, revealing on accident the battered nature of her clothing.

Suddenly Robert had forgotten all heartache; he froze his eyes upon the ruffled, dirty dress and spoke in a low voice, "You had better tell me you fell down. Otherwise..."

And she had done, but Cora dreaded to remember Bricker's forced actions that day. His slam against the wall for a kiss had bruised her back; his applied pressure when bringing her unwilling body onto the bedcovers had ruined her impression of him as amiable and gentle.

Pursing her lips in preparation for confession, Cora nodded.

"Yes, you _did_ fall? How?"

Oh how she hated to see him in this way! Had she been sane, Cora would have thought Robert's concern enough to kiss him even a little, to assure him that all was well. But the scars of Simon Bricker's touch, masculine voice, and former presence - with her in a bedroom, alone - made Cora's husband a foreign man.

"Cora, what happened when you fell? Were you hurt?"

"Not at all," she admitted to him. "It happened outside in the gardens, but all is well."

"Clearly nothing is well for you right now, my darling," Robert assured her. It was his way of asking for more of an explanation, but Cora's frustration only increased.

"What must I do to convince you I'm well?" she wondered finally. Her hands shook as she lifted herself up from the bed.

"Simple," announced Robert, a bit competitively. "You will have to endure the night until our company leave."

Which was a minor detail about which Cora had forgotten.

Simon Bricker - among several others - would be dining at Downton that night.

Cora would _not_ be well.

...

Their guests promptly arrived at seven o'clock that evening, much to Cora's dismay. She doubted that Simon would behave; and, above all, she knew Robert would sense tension between them.

Of course, the Countess - and also the hostess - made her appearance at seven fifteen, having been desperate to avoid meeting Bricker and his art-appraising colleagues at the front door. Before Cora departed her bedroom for downstairs, donning elegant attire that she rather hated presently, Baxter questioned her, "Milady, forgive me, but... Your ladyship appears uncomfortable. Shall I adjust anything?"

"No, thank you, Baxter," exhaled Cora (she had held in a great deal of breath from anxiety). "Everything is fine with me."

...

"Dinner is served, milord."

"Thank goodness," whispered Bricker with an air of humour. He had beckoned Cora over to the corner of the drawing room, not having asked Robert for permission. But on the other hand, no such thing had been necessary: Cora had known to obey. They had a contract.

"If you dare to sit next to me in there..." began the conservatively distraught woman; her outward figure gleamed in the midst of a charming crowd of mostly men young and old. And Bricker knew this.

"Now, Cora, you will not make a fool of yourself in front of _these_ people, will you? I should hope your ears open tonight, as that man you call your husband shall surely act his usual commanding self. I pity you." Bricker sighed whilst smiling directly into Cora's pupils, and for a split second she wondered what made him think he was persuading her. "I'd like to leave you now," Cora announced quietly.

"Why would you want to leave me for _him?"_ questioned the other, disgusted. Cora ignored him and walked quickly away from him.

...

"I think the art here at Downton could truly astonish the general public, if showcased in a museum."

Conversation was dull, even to Edith, Tom and Mary. Cora, however, had for several minutes bountiful tranquility at the dining table. With Robert's strong presence just across from her - and with Bricker seated at the far end - Cora was convinced that she had experienced nothing so relaxing in weeks.

Her glow of calmness caught the attention of the chatting art appraisers. "You look particularly glamorous this evening, Lady Grantham. I hope we're not boring you with our excessive talk about art."

"Not in the slightest," Cora replied happily; and immediately she and Robert locked eyes. He was beaming at her, and for him such was rare in public. Mary and Edith glanced at one another, curious about and amused by their mother. One of the guests took the floor soon afterward, proclaiming, "Lady Grantham, I haven't had the chance to tell you how charming Downton is in every way. I enjoyed the painting in your entryway..."

For some time, Cora had the opportunity to focus solely upon the praise of this older man who had much to share about his observations round the house. It was Robert's conclusion at that moment that he had been overreacting earlier, and that Cora was just fine.

Until Bricker piped up.

"Do you know what I have found most impeccable about Downton?" he started. "The ability of an historic place such as this one to prevail, despite wars and estate matters and all that lot. It is rather admirable, Lord and Lady Grantham, although I must admit that I fear change to its ways is inevitable."

"Naturally, Mr. Bricker," agreed Robert. "But Downton has already proven mighty in what change _has_ occurred, thanks to my late son-in-law."

"Yes, but surely there will be more obstacles involving the land and its workers," Bricker proffered challengingly. Cora clenched her fist in her lap angrily, and Mary sensed a need for a new voice to take over the conversation.

"Well, Mr. Bricker, Downton has known for quite some time the extent to which the Western world is evolving. My late husband set up plans that are in place for the next ten years, but we never carve anything in stone until -"

"That is very wise," Bricker interrupted, now averting his gaze from Mary to Cora. He gazed with dark passion at her. "Because, as any good sculptor knows, once he chips off some stone, it can never again be a part of the masterpiece."

Some of Bricker's colleagues were disconcerted. "And just exactly what are you implying?" one asked.

"Simply that mistakes are, even at Downton, hardly affordable," Robert finished. "Anyway, I think we all have agreed that enough talk of art is enough..."

Whilst Robert drove conversation elsewhere, Cora could not refrain from pondering Bricker's analogy. _Does he intend to inflict damage upon Downton anyway?_ she wondered internally.

...

They were alone in the library, just as Bricker's clan was leaving. He had brought her there through indirect threatening, something which Cora had by now learnt to obey without question.

His chest heaved in excitement, holding her closely next to the west wall. "You must let me today... Tonight, in the tenth room down the right hallway."

"Robert must not find out," Cora breathed, the panic evident in her voice. Bricker frowned and placed a long kiss on her forehead. "Not to worry, my dearest. We will have our fun, and in time -"

"Mr. Bricker!" exclaimed Cora, surpassing a whisper. "This is not _fun_ for me, neither is it fair to my husband and family. We value decency here at Downton, and if you dare to misstep whilst you are here -"

"You did not think every time we would be here, did you?" the man questioned. When Cora stared blankly at him, Bricker chuckled. "Ah, Lady Grantham will have to make excuses for once to that silly other man of hers. You shall be at my home next Wednesday, for dinner."

"What are you doing to me?" blurted Cora. The intensity of her tone took Simon aback.

"Well, if you want your happy family to walk in darkness, don't come."

"You think you can control everything -"

"My dear," Bricker sang, leading her to the door, "I handle the most expensive, most antique pieces of art every day. I have breathing room, and I have power."


	3. Premiere Separation

A solitary walk was Cora's ally on the Tuesday before her mandatory meeting with Bricker. Only once had the man had his way with her, and yet Cora dreaded the sun's mocking ascension at the dawn of each day.

With her back to the abbey, Cora stopped on the dirt path to observe the surrounding fields. Nature's serenity temporarily comforted her, although her deepest fears would not surrender to the beautiful landscape; she wondered when her husband and children would notice her overall dishevelment. Indeed, within hardly four days, the normally brightly-attired Countess had circles round her eyes, which were seldom present without evidence of exhaustion.

And her exhaustion was not that which results from a lack of sleep.

As Cora's mind settled into a state of contemplation over the land before her, Robert was making the journey down the same path, undoubtedly seeking his wife. Cora turned when she heard his steady walk against the dirt; upon recognising that it was him, she wiped her lips and brushed the loose ends of her hair with her fingers.

Even in gloomy weather - as overcast skies were present on this afternoon - Robert admired Cora's figure against the background of such a stunning verdure. In mere seconds, he was metres away from her; Robert smiled moderately and confessed, "You look more radiant every day, my darling."

"You must be lying," presumed Cora sourly. And she was correct to an extent: her husband _had_ noticed the prevalent age of her features. But never would he deny her beauty.

That was a quality in her that he believed never left.

But Robert was still concerned for her well-being. He shook his head in the negative. "My darling, I wouldn't profess it if it were not true. How are you feeling today? You woke early for breakfast downstairs: it was shocking to me."

"I wanted to dine downstairs," admitted Cora.

"But you haven't done it since the morning we left for the Highlands, two years ago."

"Change is better accepted than not."

"I don't mean to offend you, Cora; it was only puzzling me." Robert took a few steps away from his wife, not wishing to make her feel uncomfortable by their small argument. But the fact remained that their encounter here had been the most they had talked in one sitting for days.

Cora was well aware of this. "Did you come all the way here to talk?" she asked Robert. "I'll be down in a moment anyway; dinner isn't very long from now. Isobel will be here."

"And so will Mama," added Robert calmly. He wanted to act as collected as humanly possible albeit his courage was dwindling. _Cora and I are severed,_ he thought, a _nd God knows what has come between us._ His eyebrows narrowed as Cora covered her face in her hands, clearly distressed. "Is there something wrong?"

When no answer graced his ears, Robert promised her, "You don't have to hide anything from me."

Cora uncovered her face at long last. She almost broke when Robert added, "I do love you, Cora, no matter the circumstances."

But his appreciation and fervent regard for her only stirred more guilt in Cora, who was beginning to imagine Bricker was bluffing about his power. Robert neared her slowly, gently intertwining his hand with hers. She inhaled heavily and squeezed his hand, sensing his need for affection. "I'm sorry," she whispered, bowing her head.

...

"Milady?"

It was Wednesday night. Cora spun round to find Mr. Carson staring rather awkwardly at her. He had every right, she knew, because - for the Countess of Grantham to venture downstairs (into servants' territory, nonetheless) - and furthermore to leave through the back entrance was almost scandalous. _How embarrassing,_ Cora thought, chastising herself one thousand times over for having chosen this time and place for her secretive departure. "I beg your pardon, milady," Carson reestablished, bowing his head in regret.

"Please know that I am not upset with you, Carson," assured the woman kindly. "I've had an emergency, and wanted to keep quiet about it. Please don't bother his lordship about my leave."

"Very well," affirmed the butler, but quickly he added, "although it is dark outside, and it would be wrong not to have Thomas escort your ladyship -"

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary," Cora cut in, as firmly as possible. She knew Carson could be a pragmatist before a butler, and truly she appreciated that quality in him. But now was not the time.

Once her body and mind were completely outside Downton, Cora reminded herself of the means through which she would be travelling to Simon Bricker's property. He had arranged for his chauffeur to stop at the outskirts of Downton Village, where the car would wait for Cora and promptly depart. And although Cora felt extremely uneasy about the entire ordeal - leaving the house at eight in the nighttime, lying to Robert about wanting to have solitude in one of the many, many guest rooms - it was Bricker's plans for the two of them that worried her above all.

The man frightened her, and Cora was convinced that she would never fall for him. Never.

...

"Five minutes late," her host greeted her, kissing her hand as they were walking toward the rather intimidating front-door. After the door had shut, Bricker brought Cora closer to him and simply breathed for a moment, staring hungrily at her. "Five minutes late means five more for my pleasure."

He was hugging her chest especially tight, which was to Cora simultaneously wretched and uncomfortable. "If you free me from your choking hold, I'll explain my lateness."

"I had no idea that you could bring out such a sense of tasteless humour," spat Bricker sourly, letting go of the woman dramatically so that Cora practically tripped on the floor. "But I don't require an explanation, my dearest. You've already provided me with reason to keep you longer." He kissed her cheek maliciously, causing his accompaniment to gently shove him away. "Cora!" he shouted in anger.

"You deserved it, and you know it," hissed the woman carefully, thirsting for the abusive man to recognise his nature and to apologise for it. "I was late because my butler caught me on my way out, and I had to cover for it."

"Sorry," he muttered quickly, starting his journey to the dining room. "No matter, we had better finish this meal. It's turning cold."

"Where are the servants? Do you not have a butler?" wondered Cora in mock amusement, entering through two estate-sized doors to find a massive dining table at the centre of the dimly-lit room.

Bricker frowned at her and explained: "My staff is gone, save for that man who brought you here. I paid them their wages, told them to leave for the night... We have the night to ourselves. You see?" he added softly, touching her cheek in mock admiration. "I _do_ run an ethical household. Morals are held highly here."

Cora chuckled testily. "I don't believe morals are your forte, Mr. Bricker."

"Cora, I don't want to hear any of your sickly insulting comments tonight," Simon declared, making his way casually toward the opposite side of the table. He did not bother with the Countess' chair, which ironically pleased Cora. She already knew he lacked chivalry.

"Now, shall we dig in?" questioned Bricker. He was grinning at her, reaching across the table for the few courses of their meal. "After all, we can't spend the entire evening in _here."_

Disgusted yet fearful, Cora held her tongue.


	4. Crumbling Hope

"Hello, Mama."

Two weeks had gone by. Cora responded to Mary's words with a smile as she entered the nursery, where George and his mother were playing with his toys. The young boy looked up as his grandmother knelt beside him, and greeted her with a "Granny is here."

Adoring the purity and beauty of his observation, Cora fixed her eyes upon George's own and asked him, "How are you, George? What are you playing with your mama?"

The child glowed as he explained, "We want the animals to be safe from the car. The animals go in here." He pointed to a small shelter made out of blocks, and further showed Cora all the animals inside it. Mary chuckled when George looked back at her and asked, "Can Granny play?"

"Why not?" Cora interceded, delighted to hear such a phrase from her grandson. "I would love to, George." She kissed the child's forehead, taking in everything wonderful at that moment: her darling grandson, George's eagerness for his grandmother's company. _This is why I abide by Simon's rules,_ she recognised.

"Well," Mary began, getting up from the floor, "I wouldn't want to spoil your time together. Please tell Papa that I will be in the library, doing estate work." With that, the young woman left the room: just before Cora had processed the assertion involving Robert. _Is he due here, in the nursery?_ she wondered. George called for his grandmother's attention to return to the toys on the rug; and while this was the centre of her focus, Cora feared having to interact with her husband.

She loved him...which was why it was her sole intent to keep him from having to gaze upon her diminishing figure.

Sure enough, Robert did arrive in five minutes' time. Since the door was ajar, he stepped right in and - upon realisation that Cora rather than Mary was there with his grandson - remarked, "What a surprise."

Both George and his grandmother turned round, the former practically cheering, "Grandpapa!" as Robert neared the boy and swept him up into his arms. From below, Cora adored how fond of one another the two were; she presently coveted that sort of connection, with anyone, really.

Once George was on the floor again, diligently helping the endangered toy animals to shelter, Robert settled himself on the rug, adjacent to his wife. "You've not yet talked. Has something begun to bother you?"

He did not know the half of it, all thanks to Cora. She shook her head quickly, first nonverbally shrugging away the concept of being "bothered" and then assuring him, "I'm fine. It's wonderful to see George."

"It is, I agree." Robert sighed softly whilst viewing George's continued engrossment in his play. "The years have done astounding things to us," he admitted, turning to look at Cora. "When the first five years of our life together passed, we were already parents. And now our daughters have their own children growing in this very house. Where's Sybbie, anyway?"

To witness Robert reminiscing was torture to Cora. "I don't know," she blurted, gathering the composure to announce her desire to leave the nursery. "I've been here too long. Mrs. Hughes is probably wondering -"

"Mrs. Hughes can wait," interrupted Robert firmly. He stared intently into his wife's opaque eyes, trying and aching to read her internal feelings like a book. But Cora was far too determined to conceal all of that.

After a moment of silence - during which George kept to himself (although by this time he had noticed his grandparents' discord) - Robert asked again, "Is everything all right? You've been acting strangely whenever I come by, and I don't feel at ease about it. Cora, are you hiding something -"

"Please don't do this now. Not in front of _him."_ Little did Cora's advice matter, however; for George had already frozen in his play, fixated upon his grandparents who were on the floor, doing what he thought simply to be "arguing".

"Grandpapa?" the child questioned, "Grandmama?"

When both whose names had been called were staring right back at George, speechless, the boy further asked, "Where is Mama?"

That had done it for Cora. Her eyes had orchestrated an entire ensemble of tears that yearned for release; every inch of her body screamed at her mind for relief from Bricker, as that very man had done horrors of abusively intimate things which only made Cora feel guilty in the presence of her grandson.

Robert finally answered in Cora's stead: "Your mama is probably somewhere, though I'm not sure exactly..." He suddenly heard sniffling next to him, where Cora was located. "My darling?" he called to her, forgetting George's immediate discomfort among two, disconsolate older people. When the Countess of Grantham had to cover her face at last, Robert whispered, "Cora?"

She presumed he required Mary's whereabouts for George. "She's in the library, Robert. Take George there, please." It was evident to the man now that his wife was fighting tears, but he dared not to try to help her out of her state of misery. _She has pushed me away too damned much,_ thought Robert, and if that is how she wants it...

...

"Ah, my darling Cora." Simon bowed generously to her, seeing that the woman - his contract-fulfiller - had attired herself exceptionally well on this night. "What has brought about such a change in tune, my darling?"

"Nothing at all," replied the woman tartly, beginning to remove her shoes as she felt the lock on the bedroom door and turned it. The lock inched in the proper direction but then halted, failing to click.

Bricker was staring down Cora now, totally and disgustingly beaming as she undid the light coat that had (he presumed) been for the purpose of fooling those at Downton. "What, then, has changed?" the man questioned once more. His pupils were dilated, and Cora saw this. He was moderately drunk.

"I've come today in hope that you will find this evening to be the last of its kind," announced she, carefully. "My family has already experienced the effects of my relations with you, and I do not wish to incur such effects any more." Her annoyance with Bricker escalated as he, having already approached her in such a drunken state, felt her face as though it were a sculpture from one of the museums he frequently visited. "So _perfect,"_ he whispered in a scratchy voice.

"Mr. Bricker, I hope you can see reason to end this," persisted Cora, trying to distract him from his reverie. "You chose not to detail the duration of this contract, so I find it appropriate that -"

 _"Appropriate?"_ scoffed the man, laughing all the same. "How could you think what you are doing is so appropriate? Cora, darling, I never settled an end-date because, well... There _isn't_ one."

"Mr. Bricker, this is worse than blackmail!" exclaimed Cora furiously, her heart beating faster as she attempted to cover herself once again with the coat. Bricker slapped her arms as they reached for it, which set off the woman's instinct to slap him back: on the face. "Damn it!" he shouted; and the volume of this remark frightened her.

Bricker was going to hurt her. She had to escape.

All at once, Cora rushed toward the door; of course, mentally unstable Simon Bricker followed her - catching her hand - and pulled her back, causing an inconvenient tear in Cora's garments. Snarling "Stay here!", Bricker plunged into the mess that were Cora's many layers of attire. He huffed like an animal; breathed like a dog; and pressed his entire weight against her body so as to trap her, injuring her all the more.

Cora had never endured anything so painful. Prior interactions with Bricker had been child's play in relation to this; and the man wouldn't stop his kissing of her cheek, mouth, neck, everything and anything that he could reach as he held down her struggling legs and arms expertly.

When he did have a moment to breathe, Bricker finished his promise: "You _will_ come with me to the city, where we will, at last, be together and away from this horrendous production your husband has maintained! No one will figure -"

And instantly Bricker stopped at the sound of a "Hello?" coming from outside the door. Neither Cora nor the hysterical man who contained her moved nor spoke, and just when both thought the person had moved on, the door was opened, and darkness evaded the room, betraying the woman and he whom appeared to be her lover.


	5. Exposure and Concern

Instantly Baxter regretted her entrance. To find her employer in such a disheveled state was incredible to the lady's maid, who had merely been attending to the maintenance of the vacant guest rooms. "M-milady...?"

Cora felt as if she'd been thrown off a cliff, the practically intolerable sensations of shock, horror, and excruciation presently consuming her. Bricker immediately removed himself from the floor and stood up to brush his clothing.

He hadn't the minutest thought to help up the Countess, whose physical challenge was to move her body. She tried to pull her upper body from the floor, extended her shaking arms toward Simon for his hand - and only now would she dare to require it - but all this transpired to no avail. Baxter quickly shifted her concerns to that of her ladyship. "Milady..." She walked slowly, tentatively, into the pitched-black room; knelt down, closer to the sweaty floor, to offer Cora assistance in getting up. And once the physically and mentally smitten woman had regained her upward stance on the floor she cringed, the nerves in her back lashing out in pain.

Cora winced, cried out in that way that only the most proper of aristocrats would do. Bricker failed to hear her tribulations, focusing his narrow eyes upon the perimeters of the bedroom in search of an alternative exit. Baxter had meanwhile clasped her arms round the Countess, whispering, "Shh, milady, we'll call the doctor."

But Cora hated that thought. "No," she shot back at the lady's maid, not processing kindness in the midst of what had been the most frightening, disturbing, and ruined evening she had perhaps ever endured. Parts of her mind were thankful that Robert had not been the unfortunate one to open that door; and yet, Cora's heart had already descended to its lowest place, dangerous thoughts travelling through her scarred perspective on the world and its evildoers.

Bricker, meanwhile, paced the room moderately, refusing to answer Baxter's questions, such as, "What has happened?" and "Please tell me how her ladyship fell so ill." The gentleman - though he was precisely the opposite of one - purely shook his drunken head, smiling greedily as he came to the conclusion that he had the same opportunity about which he had told Cora.

Panting and struggling to breathe normally - almost all of these due to panic - Cora squeezed Baxter's hand in desperation, whispering, "Tell Thomas or Anna to send Mary. We cannot leave this room."

"But, milady," pressed Baxter, who was beginning to figure that Cora's involvement with the insolently dishonourable guest had been involuntary. The maid's inhalations began to accelerate and shorten, one horrid word passing through her head. _It cannot be,_ thought her innocent side.

And then the hero of the day passed by the hallway. Luckily the door was only slightly ajar, so Thomas saw nothing of the bedroom's interior. "Baxter, is something wrong? I heard a loud crash."

Inching toward the doorframe so as to appear through the crack, Phyllis Baxter solemnly confessed in a whisper, "Trouble has occurred. Call the authorities, and bring Lady Mary here immediately!"

...

All that Mary had needed to hear had been "trouble" before she shuddered and hurried past Thomas, who was supposed to have been her escort. The truth was, however, that Mary had come to a serious and rather ominous conclusion that her mama was not well, and that someone outside the family had taken her to such a misery.

"Down the hall, seventh door on the right," promised Barrow, his own tone of voice genuinely melancholic. He, too, feared for whomever was in danger; he secretly vowed not to tell anyone, on account of knowing Baxter had been the one to discover and act for the sake of this crisis.

Mary ran through the hallway with no regard for how it seemed. She fast approached the door Thomas had indicated and pushed it open, gently, to lock eyes upon two familiar (albeit terrified) faces. First Mary gasped; then she glanced at the sinister shadow in the corner of the stripped bedroom. "Oh, God..." she blurted.

And her assertion had been the start of a very intense prayer.

 _Please, Lord, let Mama be well and safe in due time. No matter what has transpired, please: have mercy on her._

It was a bold prayer, but when Bricker started for the window in the room (it was shaded), Mary immediately lost all prior thought and demanded boldly, "You're not going anywhere.

"What has he done?" Mary asked her mother softly whilst wishing for a contradictory answer: one that proclaimed that Cora was fine; and the other that announced the explanation for her mama appearing to be in Bricker's presence, mouth scathed at the lips and forehead, clothing battered and far from presentable.

But one of these suggested the worst to have occurred.

Suddenly Bricker clasped his arms on Baxter's shoulders, clinging her to him and rendering her frightened. "You will let me leave," Bricker threatened Mary, "or I will most certainly take your maid away from here and ruin the reputation of this house!"

"You will do nothing of the sort!" exclaimed Mary lividly, shifting her gaze at once to Baxter. "Don't worry," she assured the maid. "This monstrosity of a man has no chance at his schemes -"

A knock interrupted Mary rather opportunely. "Authorities," called someone from the outside. "We are coming in."

Cora watched as Bricker's mocking face turned stone-cold. Flashing a glare at Mary, Simon Bricker murmured, "How dare you regard me so lowly! Do you know nothing of your dear mama's part in this?"

"How could you call this _her_ fault?" Mary shouted. Just then, the police entered forcibly through the door, causing Bricker to release Baxter.

The authorities observed the situation and verified, "What is the emergency?"

"This man," declared Mary, "has used force to physically harm my mother."

"Her allegation is absurd," huffed Bricker, laughing although his anxiety shone through every contour of his face. "This woman here, sirs -" he pointed to Cora - "has agreed to dishonouring her husband -"

"Mr. Bricker!" interjected Mary; Cora was on her heels in terror.

"Hold on a moment," cut in a policeman. "Lady Grantham, isn't it?" He was eye-to-eye with she whose name had been called, and at once Bricker nodded, pretending to look fearful. "She has placed me in an impossible situation, and I was trying to escape."

"He is lying," argued Mary. "This man is guilty of having his way -"

"Please, milady," asked the other authority, "we must have clarity with this situation. Lady Grantham, would _you_ please describe your experience with this man...?"

...

Long after the authorities had departed without Simon Bricker in their custody (yes, though to the passionate frustration of Cora, Mary, and Baxter), Downton had returned to exist as a tranquil house, everyone from upstairs as well as downstairs retiring all activities from the day. Robert had twice refused Mary's wish to have her father comfort Cora ("She's ill and in need of encouragement, Papa.").

Nonetheless, nighttime transformed into daytime, and Cora would not sleep. She had chosen a room close to that of Edith, knowing too well that her middle daughter looked upon her mother with pride and not pity.

Cora craved seclusion more than ever.

By morning, Mary's words had produced a guilt in Robert, whose first item on his agenda was to go to Cora. He knocked on her door at seven o'clock.

"Who is it?"

"Your humble husband."

A pause from inside the room tempted the Earl to give up; and yet, a hopeful side of him understood that reconciliation at this time - rather than later - was imperative. "I need to apologise, among many other things," he admitted, his voice just loud enough so that she could hear.

Cora was in tears, and had been for hours. Although it was morning, she did not sense a commencement of a new day; every bit of her disorderly life was not washed away from her memory, visually as well as mentally and physically.

"Cora?" called Robert once more, for clarification. _As long as she lets me inside the room, she and I can have consolation,_ thought the man, nervousness driving such reassuring feelings.

But did he have reason to feel so strongly about Cora's return into his arms?

...

"Why hasn't Mama come downstairs today? Is she ill?"

These were Edith's and Tom's collaborative questions, their daily activities having brought them to the conclusion that the Countess of Grantham had not appeared downstairs from late night until morning. Edith was particularly concerned. "Mary, should I be upstairs now, to help her?"

"Nothing is in our control," confessed Mary plainly. She set down her drink and approached the sofas encompassing what usually felt like a comfortable space in the library. "She is neither well nor bedridden."

Tom was about to get up from the sofa. "Well, there must be something or someone to restore her spirits. When was the last time -"

"Last night, and very briefly," Mary quickly lied, further covering up the truth with a "She was in her room and wanted to be left alone."

"Oh," sighed Edith. "Mama has been rather overcast lately. Perhaps she needs distance from Papa?"

"They haven't seen one another since yesterday," interrupted Mary; and suddenly she regretted her revelation. Now, she figured, Edith and Tom would question Cora's motives for sleeping solitarily in a different room, apart from Robert. Inside, Mary began to experience the pangs of beholding the image of the gruesome Bricker in the midst of her tormented Mama.

She wholeheartedly believed her mother about having been the victim in the situation.

What Mary could not understand was why it all had occurred, almost as if the ordeal had been planned, prepared...

"Wait," Tom blurted, having by now processed Mary's information. "Why was Lady Grantham -"

"Mary, what are you saying?" Edith, too, found herself disconcerted and slightly worried. "Had she and Papa been fighting?"

"I'm sure," Mary replied, relieved because she believed this affirmative answer would end the conversation, or at least alter it.

...

"Oh, Cora..."

She had told him the worst of it all at once - an overwhelming episode in which the most loving of husbands surely feel grief, lack of breath, and anger simultaneously - but Robert was taking in everything with sorrow more than fury, compassion rather than frustrated passion. He had Cora in his arms (she had welcomed him), his teary eyes shut as his hands rubbed her bruised arms. Quietude blessed them; togetherness had done, also. But when Robert disengaged from her embrace, he had to ask one last time, "Your forehead..." he traced his gentle fingers there from left to right, "...and your bruises and scars... You would never do this to your body, would you?"

He was whispering, but she answered loudly: "No. Robert, I...I don't want you to harm him or -"

"He will pay for this, my darling."

"But you couldn't."

"I can, and I will."

This frustrated Cora, as she knew that he - a husband, a veteran, a father - would never take a human life unless he felt it to be for the good of protecting his family.

Cora was realising that she had hurt him. That she should have screamed on Bricker's first threatening night of the contract. That she now might as well pull out all the hairs she had and confess to the universe her mistake.

Robert saw the look in her conflicted eyes. "This is not your fault. _Not_ your fault, Cora." He embraced her one last time, and into his chest she wept, knowing that the future of her family would certainly be ruined once Robert had his wish.

Unless she, herself, could undo Bricker before Bricker's heart aborted its wicked beating.


	6. Secrecy

It was to Mary's shock that she found her mother in her room, engrossed in packing her bags. The Earl of Grantham was not present, neither (from Mary's knowledge) would he be home for several hours.

"Your father has gone to find more information on Bricker," Cora announced once she noticed her daughter peeking in from behind door. Her tone was melancholic and highly unwelcoming to Mary, but the younger exceeded the older in motivation to have a conversation. The sight of Cora in such an underwhelmed state concerned Mary.

"Where are you going, Mama?" she asked plainly. "Does Papa know of your trip?"

Just then Cora realised what she had to reveal to Mary. "No," she whispered, dropping the last item into the bag she had filled entirely on her own, without any sort of assistance from Baxter. "But I'm afraid you will have to promise me not to tell anyone where I am going."

Speechless, Mary waited with a blank gaze upon her opaque-countenanced mother whilst Cora took a deep breath and spilled every detail.

After this had transpired, Mary felt simultaneously amazed and bewildered. "Are you sure this will get rid of Mr. Bricker for good? And that Papa -"

"Robert wouldn't have the chance for anything he threatened to do, as long as I am quick to act," reasoned Cora. "It will not be simple for me, and in fact, it will be impossible if you tell anyone. Do you understand?"

"Certainly, yes!" exclaimed Mary, her voice shaky yet firm. She now knew her purpose, during which time her mama would initiate a plan that never would have come across Mary's mind. _The family will worry, but_ _Mama is rather wise in her decision,_ concluded she. "I shall not tell anyone, I promise."

Nothing meant as much to Cora as her daughter's declaration. "Thank you, Mary. I am very sorry to burden you with such a responsibility -"

"But it is necessary," reminded Mary, "in order for all of us to remain in safety. A storm is upon us; without shelter, we will not survive it."

Following a fervent embrace and a single tear from Mary's eye, the Countess of Grantham disappeared from Downton.

...

Naturally, the big house possessed an equally large magnitude of panic. Edith, beside herself with fear, searched the west-end bedrooms; whilst a frustrated Tom devoured the rooms at the east end.

It was late afternoon, and Robert was still not home.

Servants frantically dispersed into every room, hall, and outdoor area, seeking their respected employer. And in the midst of this - when Mrs. Hughes and Carson took a moment to wipe their brows and catch their breaths - they spotted Lady Mary atop the staircase, holding the hand of Master George.

Presuming her calm visage to be an act, Carson came up to her and the boy. "Milady, is there anything more you would like the staff to do?"

"Thank you, but no, Carson," replied Mary, attempting to sound distressed. "I'm afraid we must wait for his lordship before we call the authorities."

"Very well," agreed the butler, sighing quietly whilst he eyed the child at Mary's side. Little George had obviously been sobbing; his face was red and his eyes were moist and glossy.

By this time, Baxter had neared the congregation at the stairs and appeared especially nervous. Mary turned to the sound of her voice: "Milady?

"I wondered if I might propose a possible explanation to her ladyship's absence. In her room, I found an unusual amount of clothing in the closet. Could her ladyship have packed and gone away?"

Defensive toward this for the sake of the promise she had made, Mary shook her head and answered, "Her room is as it is normally; I checked it earlier."

Carson, however, saw reason to worry. "Milady, perhaps Baxter knows to a greater extent how her ladyship's wardrobe should be at this time -"

"Carson," snapped Mary, "I believe I quite know the state of her ladyship's bedroom, and that there should be no concern in its respect." After the woman had uttered this, George stifled a cry and covered his eyes in embarrassment. All had witnessed this, and Mary felt guilty immediately.

But not for long did they suffer from uncertainty of Cora's bedroom; for the Earl of Grantham entered through the front door with a look of satisfaction upon his face. That instantly altered. "If I might ask, what are you all talking about?"

"Milord," Carson began. Mary stopped him.

"We don't know where Mama has gone. I figured we would wait for your approval to notify the police."

Mary's excuse maddened Robert. "Why on earth would you wait? My god! when did she go missing?"

"It is uncertain, milord," Baxter contributed, "and it appears none of the staff was informed of her leave."

Before Mary could assure her father that perhaps Cora would be returning (as much of a lie that would have been), Mrs. Hughes called to them from downstairs. "Milord, the chauffeur believes he saw Lady Grantham outdoors this morning. She was carrying a bag…"

"That does it," huffed the Earl, storming past his daughter and sniffling grandson. He locked eyes with the butler. "Carson, call the police and tell them what has happened. If they're not at Downton by sunset -"

"Yes, milord."

"And Mrs. Hughes," added Robert, his face starting to overheat as he realised that Cora could be anywhere, _anywhere_ at all, and God knew in what state of mind she acted. "Send Tom to me, please. I need a good man to ensure I don't go mad." The head housekeeper nodded quickly and set off to perform her task; meanwhile, Mary stood, statue-like, at the head of the staircase. Robert noticed George beside her and demanded that the child be sent to the nursery. "And be sure Sybbie is there, too," added he.

Mary ached to see her father with such worry in his eyes. "Papa," she reasoned, "I think you might feel better if you sit down for a moment. Mama might very well return tonight."

"You seem so relaxed about the disappearance of your mama," shot Robert bluntly. "Do you know something of which I am not aware?"

Silence preceded the young woman's shaky response. "…No."


	7. Frightening Activity

After the authorities had left Downton (assuring the Earl of Grantham that they would "do everything in their power" to find Cora), Edith congregated Tom and Mary in the library for an informal meeting.

"Papa won't want to tell us if he tries to leave tonight," proposed Edith. "We must volunteer to go and look for Mama."

"I'll stay with the children," Tom offered. His face was wan with the weight that had piled on since the afternoon. "Both of you should go with him."

"Well of course I'm going," verified Mary, the certainty almost overbearing in her voice. Edith frowned at this, but the former continued, "I think we should try London. Mama can't have gone too far since the late morning."

Edith shook her head. "No, I don't believe so. Mama's sure to have travelled by train, and since she left rather early -"

"Perhaps Manchester, or Ripon," thought Tom. "Why she would go far, I haven't an idea."

"First we'll look in London, and Edith -" Mary locked eyes with her sister - "please telephone Aunt Rosamund. Ask her if we might stay with her for a day or two. Don't mention why."

At this the younger was instantly disconcerted. "Do you mean to say it will take days in London before we try anywhere else? Mary, isn't that insensible?"

"Just make the call," reminded Mary insistently. It had taken every bit of restraint not to reveal that their mother was, in fact, in London. That Cora Crawley had instructed Mary to lead Robert there, and that a single misstep in the execution of Cora's plan would yield devastation for all.

...

Nighttime in the big city instilled in Cora the warm feeling of security. She was no longer an open target in the middle of nowhere, hiding so poorly inside the only towering estate round Yorkshire; no, now she could blend in, could hum her favourite tunes by Mozart, by Verdi, by Brahms...

Even so, her heart would sink at the sight of the grand architectures; at the musicians playing at the restaurant; at couples young and old, walking hand-in-hand down the sidewalks in the park.

She craved one love. That of her husband.

Bricker's house was nearby, but Cora had no intention to pass by it. First on her critical list of things to do was to find the newspaper company for which Edith had once worked...

 _"I have an incident to report."_

 _"Oh? What might that be?"_

 _"Downton Abbey's Countess of Grantham has gone missing."_

Next - since it was growing late - Cora knew she had to find a hotel in which to stay for the night. After a brief car ride, she located the perfect, unlikely place.

 _"Hello, ma'am. For how many nights will you be staying in a room?"_

 _"Two."_

 _"May I have your name?"_

 _"Martha Levinson."_

...

Robert was in awe when, at dinner, Edith and Mary volunteered to search in London with him the next day. "Are you completely decided?" he wondered, attempting to force his daughters to question their offer and to change their minds (after all, the Earl was damned ready to leave that night).

To his mild disappointment, the two confirmed that they wanted to accompany their papa. "Very well, then," sighed Robert, grieved ever still by his darling wife's frightful absence. "We will leave first thing tomorrow."

...

"My good sir, that is what it claims!"

"You had better not be lying." Simon Bricker huffed once more as he snatched the morning papers from the servant's hands. The ink clung to every inch of his skin that had come in contact with the newspaper, but Bricker was not the least bit interested in that. What his eyes soon scanned at the top of the second news page turned his thought-process upside down. "No," he whispered.

"What do you believe it means?" the innocent servant questioned his master, taking Bricker's breakfast away from the dining table. "They would not have reason to come to you for an interrogation...?"

Quietly he who knew guilt cursed his present situation. _It was bound to happen, damn it! I should have taken Cora when all was secret._ "Not at all," Bricker finally answered in a monotone. Suddenly, his lips curled into a foul grin. "We have nothing to fear, my friend. Do carry on."

"Of course, sir."

Simon rose from his chair gradually. He knew what this meant: Cora Crawley wanted him rather than that horrid man Robert! His teeth gritted as he imagined his long-awaited vengeance. _She has come for me,_ he decided. _And so I shall wait._

...

Waiting was hardly what Robert could do as the train to London approached its destination. Leaning toward Edith, he admitted, "If we don't find your mama here, I won't know what else to do."

"If we don't, Papa," reasoned Edith gently, "we will do everything we have _must_ do."

"We're here," Mary announced from the window-seat.

"Good Lord," muttered Robert, this phrase being a fragment of the introductory sentence to his prayer. The rest he spoke internally: _...please help us to find dear Cora. Keep her safe..._

Once the three Crawleys were out on the city streets, they immediately caught a car to Scotland Yard. But their arrival did little to relieve them.

Several morning papers crowded the sidewalks - people were studying them, and in so doing, bumping into others - and Robert demanded to see one. Mary retrieved a temporary one from a kind woman on the street and handed it to her father.

At the foot of the first page read, "Turn to page two for _Countess from Downton Abbey Disappears._ "

"How in God's name did this get here?" demanded Robert, gripping his forehead with such force that he winced. It was agonising to him, dreadfully agonising that he could not come instantly to Cora's aid, that he had no choice but to turn the page and look upon the headline with no ability to change it. He wished it would read, _Downton's Earl and Countess Find Rest at Last,_ or _Earl of Grantham Returns Countess to Downton Estate._

 _Anything_ but that which his eyes beheld in the blindingly bold title he could not eliminate from his memory.

Edith detected the sorrow in her father's countenance. "Come, Papa, let's think of this as a sign that the authorities are looking for her."

Mary was motivated by her sister's positivity. "Yes, and let's go inside to ask about it, Papa. Perhaps someone has seen Mama."

Right as they were about to enter the Scotland Yard building, someone exclaimed to them from across the street, "Robert!"

...

Cora sat contemplatively on the bed in her hotel bedroom, watching as the minute hand on the Roman clock reached struck the twelve. Outside she could hear the chimes from a church bell-tower declare it to be one o'clock in the afternoon. This signalled her to get up from her sedentary position, to put on her coat and hat (as she had, hours ago, dressed appropriately for a stroll through the city), and to exit the room. She left her belongings inside, as it was her most ardent hope that her next move would not disable her or her plan to return there before midnight.

Already as she walked casually through the lobby, Cora spotted newspapers on display and in the hands of readers. The sensation of knowing that the general public considered her to be lost was underwhelming to her, however, because she felt as if everything was playing just as she'd imagined. She, Cora, was on top of it all, and with such a certainty branded to her head, the strong woman feared nothing.

Her next destination was the home of Simon Bricker; but before she entered through those doors, she had a telephone call to make.

...

"Rosamund, have you any clue as to where Cora's gone?"

Robert's sister, unfortunately, had no answer, neither was her panic level any lower. "I'm afraid she isn't here. For the past three hours I've been calling the nearby hotels, asking if they've checked her in."

"She could have gone by a false name," Edith suggested, "since it seems she doesn't want to be found."

"Why don't we discuss this at your house, Aunt Rosamund?" Mary asked anxiously. Within the past ten minutes, she had monitored the time on the nearest clock with the fullest hope that her mama hadn't forgotten the agenda.

"Good idea," Rosamund declared in a nervous exhalation.

"That way we can have a telephone nearby," added Edith. All Robert could manage was a nod, and in moments the four were taken to the house.

…

As Robert paced across the living room floor, he began to taste sourness in his mouth. The mere thought of his wife presently living and breathing somewhere unknown had since made a mess of him; but her sudden escape from the abbey had also postponed the Earl's scheme of revenge on Simon Bricker, and for that he was furious. _What does my wife believe her limits are, that she leaves without telling me?_ His mind was circling round this and the unfortunate (to him it was so) realisation that Bricker would have time to come up with some other plan through which to ensnare Cora.

Rosamund approached her brother at the back of the room - whilst Mary and Edith were sitting in reverent silence for the sake of their missing mother - and placed her hand on Robert's shoulder. "We might just have to trust that Cora will return responsibly."

"I don't know that I can trust her, in this circumstance," explained the man solemnly. He hated himself for proclaiming such a lack of confidence in his dear Cora, but her business with Bricker was still ripping Robert to shreds. He _detested_ their supposed secret contract, and not only that Bricker had the malice to inflict it upon Cora's mind and body. In part, Robert blamed Cora for not having spoken up about it from the start. _If he threatened that Downton would pay if she told me, why did Cora believe he could avoid the authorities once I knew about it?_

Now all of his thoughts were purely out of that mysterious sort of love that prevails even in times of doubt, of tampered faith in those one loves, of disgust, of trial.

He _loved_ Cora.

It was the matter of her having thought selflessly - of her sacrifice - that pained him to want to hate at all.

By the time Rosamund, Mary, and Edith had left him for the upstairs, Robert felt more alone than ever before. It was a moderately cloudy time of day, and the outside world that was London kept its overwhelming pace as cars and people continually passed the house. The Earl of Grantham sighed, feeling at last the release of his worries into a heavy exhalation that ended at approximately the same time as the telephone rang in the entryway.

Robert's excitement channeled through his body; his feet took him out of the living room and into the hallway when the telephone was chiming a third time.

He picked up the device and did nothing but breathed into it when suddenly he froze at the sound of the voice. "Is Robert there?"

His chest warmed in a sort of embarrassed-amazed-shocked way, which yielded no word - no sound - from Robert. Again, the voice asked, "Where is Robert? Who is this? Aunt Rosamund?"

"God," blurted the man, whose voice had broken with the very same harshness as would a china set have done. It was _her,_ her beautiful presence at the opposite end of the line, and what had he done? He had uttered the Lord's name in vain. Cora responded in a cautious tone, having known from the slight projection that her husband was there. "Robert. You may feel inclined to curse -"

"Damn it, Cora," Robert whispered, his tears fiercely pouring out in revolt against him. Further he spoke in agony, "Why have you left me? Do you have no sense of how much I _need_ you?"

Had he allowed himself to have mentioned love, Robert was certain he would have bawled without warning. Presently, however, his fury was unleashing. _Why_ had Cora brought him misery? He continued, his sobs having prevented him temporarily: "If you think for one minute that I am fine with what that bastard did to you… Cora, why? And where in God's name _are_ you?"

"Robert -"

"I know where I am," he interrupted with an air of authority. "I'm in hell, and have been here since you…" Suddenly he realised that he had forgotten a significant detail. "Did you expect me to be here? You asked if 'Robert' was here, did you not?"

"If you'll let me explain, please!" demanded Cora. "I had hoped you'd be in London because of what has happened."

"What's that?"

"Mr. Bricker has… He's taken advantage of another woman. Now her husband has been arrested for attempting to murder Bricker."

"What? Why, then, are you here? I've been frightened beyond measure -"

"The woman's husband is being tried right now. She telephoned me yesterday and wanted me to be here -"

"I can't believe this," Robert announced, his perplexed nature speaking loudly and clearly to Cora. "You're at the courthouse, then?"

"Yes, and… Oh, dear. Hold on… I stepped out for a moment and now it seems…"

"What has happened? Bricker had better be dead by the time I… Cora?"

…

Cora returned the telephone to its place and started for Simon Bricker's house. Although a brief journey, every click of her shoes upon the grey pavement stirred in the woman more and more uncertainty.

She prayed that everything would work.


	8. Robert Knows

"But you can't, Papa -"

"Can't what?" huffed Robert, his heart incessantly beating faster as he stormed through Rosamund's house and out the door. "Can't believe that Cora is trying to distract me from giving Bricker hell?"

Mary was hesitant to argue further, fearful that anything more she told her papa would imply that she knew more than he did: which was the exact opposite of that which she wanted.

Her silence failed to last. "Mama is at the courthouse, and so is Mr. Bricker!" she exclaimed.

"Why must you prevent me, too?" demanded the Earl. His body was halfway through the doorframe of the front door, and Mary made the move to block her father from leaving. Added Robert, "I don't believe your mama or Bricker are there. And I think you know it's not true."

"It isn't," confessed Mary, "but you mustn't do anything that will put Mama in danger. Both of us know what Mama has suffered, but we also know that she should not have to pay yet another price for it -"

"Doing away with him is not half as costly as letting him live in our midst!"

"Then let the authorities do away with him _for_ us!" protested the younger, thick tears swimming down her cheeks. Robert was in the same state; he could hardly see outside the contours of the sidewalks, lampposts, bushes, and trees. But the unwavering eagerness of Robert to, as he had put it, "give Bricker hell", brought him to his senses. Blinking away the tears in his eyes quickly (so as not to exhibit the image of weakness), Robert turned to face the city streets, shutting the door in Mary's troubled face.

…

As Cora had predicted, Bricker welcomed her into his warmly-decorated abode with an "I was expecting you."

"And you decorated for the occasion," she commented in feigned admiration. "I'm sure you've read the papers."

"Your name, all over the second page, yes," replied Simon. His smile showcased all the greed that Cora had expected; she remained to have the higher ground as he led her into his dining room, where the servant had in his hand a tray of biscuits. A pretentious display of tea and other edible items lay on the buffet table at the end of the blindingly bright room. Bricker proudly grinned at her once he had watched her eyes travel. "Do you like how I prepared it? A little precursor to the celebration before we leave the country."

"Everything is lovely," lied Cora sweetly. _Twenty more minutes of this, then you are free,_ she repeated internally. The servant offered her and Simon the biscuits, and they each took one. In moments, he was gone. _Nineteen._

"It surprised me greatly when I read that you had decided to leave what's-his-name," revealed the host, "because you seemed so keen on separating from me before that maid and your daughter found us out. But I am elated," continued he, "by the trustworthiness you have maintained throughout our contract, albeit you were trying to break it the last time we -"

"Where did you find such gorgeous decorations for your table?" cut in Cora, anxious to deviate Simon from conversing with her about one of the most treacherous days in her lifetime. Feeble Bricker smiled at her interruption as if it were organic, and relayed, "Family heirlooms. Most of my father's lot were rich, and so he passed on those things to me, along with most of the furniture in here. It will be ours alone, once we're away from this bustling place."

Acting had never been so painstakingly guilt-filled for Cora. "I can hardly wait. You were right about me, Simon. I deserved better than what Robert allowed for me. He knows nothing of what happened, thank goodness -"

"Then we are free?" questioned Bricker quickly, wanting to feel release immediately if Cora so answered in the affirmative. _Eighteen._

She did. "Of course. I thought for days about what you had intended to tell me through our contract. It was foolish of me not to succumb early on, because now I see - oh!" He had come round to place his lips upon the back of her neck, which was accessible due to her tied-up hair.

Bricker marveled at what he perceived to be her growing acceptance of his presence. "Ah, my dearest Cora. I regret to admit that I would hate to _sit down_ this afternoon, but perhaps we can have a more… _tasteful_ discussion upstairs." He applied pressure to her cheeks with his clammy hands, and she conjured up the best impression of satisfaction.

In moments they were kissing with an intensity that Simon Bricker would have considered to be "passion". In a way, it was precisely that; after all, Cora hated the man, and her mind could not stop thinking ahead, to the part of her plan in which everything she had yearned for -

Bricker clutched her back and bent over her, all the whilst tasting her lips, her skin…

When they parted, Bricker's chest was heaving. It was obvious to Cora that he had fallen completely for her act. "Upstairs," breathed the fool, "for the last time before we leave this damned place."

"I'll be there in a minute," promised Cora in a whisper. She studied Simon's unsteady flight up the staircase and - when he was several seconds gone from her sight - went into the entryway to use the telephone.

" _What is the emergency?"_

" _A man living here has been involved in the sexual abuse of my sister. Please send the police here immediately."_

" _Right away, ma'am. The street and number?"_

…

Prior to leaving Downton, Robert had found Simon Bricker's street address from some paperwork regarding the abbey's participation in the showcasing of its art pieces. His hands clutched the slip of paper in the sweaty palm of his right hand as if it were a treasure map. And he truly thought that way about Cora; there was just a minor (Robert wanted to feel the bigger man), malicious barrier that he knew would stand in front of _his_ wife. _My wife!_ he thought over and again in his buzzing head; the bumps on the road did little to quell his headache.

All at once he experienced a fulfilling sensation as the car crept up to Simon Bricker's residence, stopping in the dead centre of the driveway. The front door seemed to greet him kindly, as if it and the entirety of that commandeered house were on the Earl's side.

…

Just moments before, in one of the upstairs bedrooms, Cora was disappointing Bricker with nothing more than kisses on the lips. This had begun to infuriate him.

"Why, Cora, do you act as if the past were once again upon us?"

"Really, Simon," chastised the woman. "I'm merely unprepared to engage in -"

"This is unlike you," argued Bricker. He walked away from her and approached the window, pulling apart the curtains. "I thought we were on the same terms."

"And we are."

"Wait, what is this? Oh, dear…"

"What?" wondered Cora, hoping not to sound too unsurprised. She drew closer to Bricker at the windowsill and peered outside; and this time, her reaction was real.

Cora gasped.

"Is that - my god, it's your bastard husband!"

"Hold your tongue!" snapped Cora. She figured all hope was lot, and that she might as well unveil herself from the false semblance of a traitorous whore.

Bricker was speechless. He frowned back at Cora, waiting for her face to reveal a confession. But Cora refused to let him have one, and so she commanded him, "If he comes inside, I want you to remain here."

The other glared at her. "There is no way in hell that I am listening to you. I know what you did; you put me in this position! You lied and took advantage of my vulnerability and pride -"

"Mr. Bricker, how dare you! _I_ have taken advantage of _you?"_ She was incredulous and offended to the point of tears.

"Don't start with me, you b -"

"Don't!" spat the woman. Cora could sense her temper rising above the two-story ceiling, and right when she was about to continue with her retort -

 _Zero._

They heard the emergency vehicle's growl as it came to a halt in front of Bricker's house. Commotion resonated through the walls of the bedroom, and suddenly Cora felt that her surroundings had become smaller. Bricker hissed at her, "I'll have you pay greatly for this, Cora." He slapped her face once, watching as the blood from her nose came flowing, exposed to the air. He glared at her again, the teeth below his insanity-glowing eyes gritted with rage. Before the woman could react, Bricker hit her again, intending to render her unconscious; but rather causing Cora - who was unprepared - to stumble to the ground dramatically.

For once in several hours, the Countess of Grantham had nothing under control.

…

"I don't know, officer; I didn't call," Robert was explaining. Concern flooded his mind like the showers that had commenced their heavy fall upon London. He could not but worry that a neighbor had telephoned after hearing God-knew-what from inside Simon Bricker's house; and what was more, Robert's imaginings had gone so far as to ask him this question:

 _What if Cora has been hurt in all this?_

The Earl of Grantham was tired of being frightened beyond words by the potential damages incurred upon his wife. He needed the security of the abbey, of the perfect, aristocratic conduct, which he still believed in his middle-aged years to be the only secure way of life in existence. "Uncomfortable" was hardly an accepted word in Robert's vocabulary, and within the past week, the man had been compelled to feel _uncomfortable._ It had been this nature of discomfort and of disorientation that had transmuted his thoughts to selfish ones revolving around revenge and satisfaction of safety.

Of reclamation of that which he needed most.

Such was his process of thinking until the shout from inside the house plunged at Robert's heart and stopped it for a second. Dizziness clouded his vision, and the pull of the earth's gravity forced him to cling to the doorframe in helplessness.

He figured he had been out for minutes, because when he again opened his eyes to the world, Robert beheld a stretcher being taken into the vehicle. The man strained his eyes to see more; a medical worker stopped at the concerning sight of Robert. "Sir, are you well?"

"Hmm? Fine," mumbled he.

And then, as if a bucket of water had been poured onto his head, Robert regained full consciousness with a "What? Who was that?"

"The resident of this house, it seems," responded the other man. "We found him unconscious on the ground behind the building. A window was open above his landing, but we doubt it was an attempt at suicide." The worker sighed for a moment whilst he studied Robert's blank countenance. "Are you the neighbor who reported that man for assaulting a woman?"

Robert was about to explode when one more of the authorities advanced from the stairwell inside the house to the doorway. His face was grieved. "Excuse my interruption, but there is a woman inside. She needs you -" he made eye contact with the Earl - "to help her through the pain medication we administered to her."

Choking back sobs of despair, Robert asked in a tiny voice, "What has happened?"

"Sir, is she your wife?"

"Yes, of course she is!" he interjected in annoyance. His common sense was failing him, for he had the inability to remember that his troubles were not those of the entire city of London. And yet, in a way, that was a false statement.

The medical worker continued, "She requests that you assist her immediately, now that the pain has become almost intolerable."

Robert rushed through the hallway and up the stairs, ignoring the panting that came with such an exertion of energy. He was cursing Bricker in his head, using every vulgar word his shocked brain could remember, but such did not suffice to alleviate him of his internal aching for an escape from this living hell. The sounds that echoed from outside deafened him with their spoken truths: _This man was having forced relations with the wounded woman upstairs. If there had been a servant in residence, he or she has left us with too many unanswered questions._

 _The woman looks as if she had been brutally abused in several places._

At long last, Robert reached a room whose door was the only one ajar in the upstairs hallway. His fingers grazed over the door before Robert had the receptiveness to open it.

Cora was propped up on the single bed in the room, which was positioned to the right of the window that faced the front of the house. Robert watched as his feet traced their path across the carpet, toward the one woman who never ceased to look beautiful to him. And nothing about her was "made up" to be presentable as it usually was when they saw each other day by day; yet he thought her beautiful, in appearance and by something more.

His hands were shaking as he placed one upon her cheek and joint the other with her own hand. The peaceful _pitter-patter_ of the mild rainfall outside allowed husband and wife to purely and nonverbally admire one another.

Finally, Cora's voice: "They told me Bricker hurt himself badly."

"Serves him right," Robert added.

Cora frowned. "They believe he won't make it."

"How sudden," exhaled the Earl, his uncertainty wavering about whether to accept Bricker's health as an appropriate resolve. When he lifted his gaze to see how Cora was taking it, she winced in effect to an abrupt episode of pain. "My darling," Robert cried, his emotions getting to him more than ever. "Why did you come here?"

This made Cora apply pressure to her forehead, which was already bruised. It stung for a moment. "I wanted to have him arrested, Robert. I needed him to believe that I wanted him instead of -"

"Instead of me," finished Robert bitterly. "I see." He looked away from her to observe the bedroom, which he found to be very dull. Cora, meanwhile, had her focus upon her husband's unforgiving tune.

"Do you think I don't care for you?" Robert questioned her. "Because I have been frightened out of my wits ever since you left… And to find you here, wounded in that devil of a man's house… I am astounded by your determination to keep our family away from this mess Bricker's made, but what I find to be even more disturbing -"

"What?" interrupted Cora, her crumbling countenance proving to Robert that he had spoken too insensitively. Instantly he straightened his back, recollected all the words he had spoken to her, and retracted his hands. Folding them as for prayer, Robert released his tears and covered his face with the interlocked hands pressed up against his brow. "Forgive me. I'm not being grateful enough. I'm a wretched husband. For you to have endured all those weeks without telling me of the horrors Bricker put you through…"

"I should have told you, and I am so, so sorry," wept Cora. "I love you, I love our children, and their children…"

"I know what you were doing," Robert confessed, wholeheartedly. He uncovered his tired face and leant down to kiss Cora's hands. They were cold and soft and comforting to him, and for a second the man believed he would never let go of them. "Most men might not have believed the reality of our situation. They would have thought that their wives had started the whole thing or agreed on a whim of youthful pleasure. But I knew… I knew he had forced everything upon you."

The subject had already inspired a dozen more tears in Cora's eyes. "How," she wondered, her dry lips the centre of Robert's full attention. "How did you know?"

"I have always known," began the man, gently touching her bruised shoulders (these were exposed, on account of the medical examinations that the emergency workers had made). "My most precious wife loves her family above all things. I know that you were forced, also, because you have never even appreciated the sight of a broken bone, much less of blood. But above all, you would never want your children to undergo such physical torment and manipulation as…" Now he, too, was starting to break from the elaboration upon the matter. "We've had four children, and I won't listen to anyone who would dare to deny that. We have lost two… Two of our darling babies, one before birth -"

"Oh, Robert!" Cora entered into Robert's embrace and cried into his chest, realising to the fullest extent that her husband did _not_ find her guilty at all, that he loved her, lauded her for the lives she had brought into the world - even the one who had not been granted the chance of birth - and wept for joy. She repeated her thanksgiving to him as they sat there, exchanging kisses and cries and laughs. And he, in return, reminded her that they only thank God for the blessing of their union, and of those gifts they had been given as a result of it.


	9. EPILOGUE

The Earl and Countess of Grantham walked out of the house of Simon Bricker an hour later. Much to Mary and Edith's chagrin, neither parent would speak of what had happened; rather, Robert had his arm locked with Cora's, the pallid reserve of his face hinting to the girls that too much to mention all at once had transpired. The family was driven away from the eventful scene and, in little time at all, arrived at King's Cross Station.

It was not until their arrival at Downton - the sun's waning glare upon the horizon welcoming them to the start of a new night - that Cora formed a sentence.

Tom, Carson, and Baxter were waiting outside to greet the returning family members in all reverence. Once the butler had let them out of the car, Cora whispered toward her husband, "Finally, we're home."

First Robert continued to near the abbey's front door, not wishing to cause the two servants unease if he did turn to look at his wife (she appeared to have been injured, but Robert did not want to inspire anyone's questioning).

But her words struck him at the last moment, and he realised that they were meant for _him,_ too.

"Right you are," Robert returned, smiling in a modest manner at Cora. She gazed at him with longing; it was evident to the Earl just how eager she was to be alone with him: Cora needed to remind herself that they _were_ bound by the wondrous union of marriage; that they had every right to be together, to enjoy that which was rightfully theirs and theirs _alone_. Carson stood between the two, waiting for them to proceed through the entryway. Mary and Edith shot one another looks of surprise, for their parents were remaining still and almost entranced by one another. Tom did not know the half of what had gone on in London or between his mother-in-law and Bricker, but he politely looked away to allow the Earl and Countess their moment.

Robert told Cora through his countenance, _You I love, my darling._

And she, in return: _Robert. I love you._

...

The next morning brought an entirely new bunch of things to consider, commencing with Edith's rushing up the stairwell and to her mother's bedroom. "It's the newspaper, Mama," she explained at the door. "About Mr. Bricker."

By this time, Mary had told Edith about what the man had done to their mother. But still, only the daughters and Baxter knew aside from Robert and Cora. This caused some speculation downstairs.

"I continue to wonder what had happened in the guest room that night, Miss Baxter."

"Thomas, it was no servant's business," Baxter assured him, sternly. "What we don't know or comprehend, we needn't worry about."

"I'd give it a rest if I were you, Barrow," Carson added. He shifted his eyeglasses as he read the morning paper. Mrs. Hughes entered the servants' hall and peered over the butler's shoulder. "Ah. I saw it too. That fellow Mr. Bricker has been wounded severely. It's a shame, I suppose; we won't be seeing _him_ at any time in the near future."

This comment offended Baxter. "But perhaps not, Mrs. Hughes. I read that article. It says Mr. Bricker will soon be imprisoned as a criminal."

"I don't find that in here," Carson announced, sounding bothered by the lady's maid's claims. "Where did you come up with such an idea, Miss Baxter?"

The woman froze. "I…must have overheard Lady Grantham mention it."

"Oh really?" Thomas challenged, his cheeky grin beginning to frighten Phyllis Baxter out of her clothes. "What else does Lady Grantham know about what goes on -"

"That is enough!" Carson scolded. "Now, we all have things to be doing. Carry on."

…

"What do you think of it?"

"He's paying the price for the horrible threats he employed upon my wife," answered Robert. Cora squeezed his hand. They had been taking a walk for just minutes now, and were finally far away enough from the abbey to feel obliged to express what their minds had made of the whole nightmare. Luckily - and they rejoiced in this - the nightmare had ended with a happy realisation that their lives would never be shaken in such a contorted manner, not so long as either could prevent it.

"Would you rather have pressed a case against him?" wondered the Countess in all seriousness.

"No."

Her eyes locked upon those of Robert, and the latter admired how her tied-up hair was coming slightly undone due to the intensifying wind. It was a delightful sort of wind, and Robert leant toward her, wanting to let down her hair. Before so doing, he asked, "May I…?"

Nodding quickly, Cora diverted the conversation back to the following day's proceeds. "I lied to you on the telephone…about what Bricker had done to that make-believe woman -"

"After we disconnected, I figured none of it had been true." Robert watched the clouds in the distance move before his eyes, as he recalled Cora's detailed story on the telephone. When he did not return his focus to her, Cora questioned softly, "Are you mad?"

"Not with you," admitted the other, his fixed gaze still upon the blueness of the sky and of his heart. "With me, yes. I am ashamed that my first inclination was to disgrace you and our family through killing Bricker, to result in me being charged for murder. It pains me to recall that you were trying to show me such through the telephone call."

"I might have been very foolish to have gone through everything I did, just to ensure you didn't kill Bricker," confessed Cora. Her hair was flapping in every direction due to the wind currents surrounding them. "However, I feared that it was all that would divert your scheme." She touched his cheek, and upon her touch Robert lowered his head to face her. He had begun to weep, silently.

How he adored her sincerity and regard for them: for _all_ of them! "I am indebted to you, my sweet Cora. You never fail me: it is I who fail."

"Nonsense," uttered the woman, her voice almost breaking into a chuckle. "Your trust in me, after all Bricker had done and after all I hadn't told you… That spoke lengths that murdering Bricker _never_ would have done." The blue in her eyes reflected the extravagant sapphire-colour that spread across the sky; and then Cora was crying.

As if her tears had inspired more in his eyes, Robert broke immediately after he had taken Cora into his arms, repeating to her how _strong_ she was, and how precious every inch of her body was to him. She had provided the both of them with children and with a fortitude that had (Robert had no doubt) helped to bring the family through the Great War. Through Sybil's and Matthew's deaths. Through Bricker's mutilation of their marriage, of their family, and of Downton.

All this was _theirs._ _Their_ experiences, _their_ tribulations, _their_ steadfast love for one another.

And it was this knowledge that both Cora and Robert _could_ know.

 **THE END**


End file.
